"Lost!" muttered the officer. "Yes. We were crossing a steep slope down by the lower pass, and I stepped on a slide of glacier ice that was hidden by snow. Went down on the glare, and rolled and coasted about a half mile to the bottom. Smashed my carbine so it wasn't even worth salvage, and nearly cracked my neck in the bargain. And when I had gathered myself up and labored back to the top, the girl was gone. It happened last evening, mind you, and I was all night and most of the day working back the trail. I'll say this much for the young lady: when she's in a hurry she can cruise with the best of us."
Devreaux turned to glower at the girl. "And I warn you now," he said with asperity, "I'm going to forget to be polite and use the wrist irons if you get 'lost' this way another time."
She flushed darkly, and averted her head, as though to hide the glint of tears upon her lashes. "What would be the use?" she replied in a tired, hopeless voice. "You're men—hard and ruthless—and I—I haven't a chance. You can order me to come and go as you please and threaten me with handcuffs, and I have nobody—there's nothing I can do about it—nothing."
"Exactly!" asserted the colonel. "And now we must go." He turned on his heel and set off across the meadow; and Alison Rayne sighed despondently, and followed him in mute resignation.
Dexter looked after her for a moment with a pensive frown and then, gloomily shaking his head, he hastened forward and caught step with her.
"How did you get the message that brought you to this place?" he asked suddenly, watching her face with slantwise curiosity.
"What message?" interrupted Devreaux brusquely.
The corporal gave a hurried account of his adventures in the cabin on the further side of the valley, telling of the boy he had found there, and of the voice that aroused him from sleep. "Reminded me of the queer business at the other cabin," he remarked. "Sounded like telephone talk—only there was no telephone." He faced the girl with searching gaze. "The young man informed me that he didn't know you, and pretended to be asleep and dreaming; but he said 'Alison' as distinctly as I say your name now. And he advised you to make your way to this mountain, where a friend would be waiting."
"What have you to say to that, Alison?" demanded Devreaux.
The girl cast a fleeting glance towards Dexter, and he fancied for a second that he saw a sardonic gleam in her velvet eyes. "I should say that Corporal Dexter is a little mixed up about who was dreaming," she observed in a quiet tone.